Chapter Fifty-Four: Keeping the Appointment

Meifeng Peak lies nestled within the valley of the Chess Star Pavilion. The mountain is neither steep nor imposing; on the contrary, its landscape is serene, its waters clear, and its plum blossoms flourish, resembling a gentle, graceful maiden.

Yet, the plum blossoms here are not the common variety found in the mundane world. They are unique to this place, known as “Snow-Stepping Plum.” Not only do they bloom in all seasons, but their petals are a delicate pink rather than the usual reddish-brown, more reminiscent of cherry blossoms than plums.

Most remarkable of all, there exists a spirit bird upon the peak, fond of dancing among the Snow-Stepping Plum. As it moves, its feet create melodies, as if it were using the plum trees as an instrument, playing a symphony. Many who are unaware of the secret become entranced, lingering long before their senses return. Thus, the name “Listening Plum Peak” was born.

On this day, at the foot of Listening Plum Peak, a youth in gray attire arrived. His figure was upright, with sword-like brows and star-bright eyes, a spark of spiritual clarity in his gaze.

He looked up at the mountain, his brows furrowing. The upper half of Listening Plum Peak was shrouded in a faint mist, and even with his keen vision, he could not pierce it.

He hesitated only briefly, then composed himself and ascended the stone steps.

After walking barely a hundred paces along the mountain path, he was greeted by a captivating fragrance. Two maidens in pink stepped out from either side of the path. Both were beauties of rare charm. The one on the left was cold as ice, her demeanor forbidding; the one on the right was as radiant as a peach blossom, her smile lively and alluring.

The maiden on the right laughed and said, “Where have you come from, little brother, and what brings you to Listening Plum Peak?”

Though her tone was playful, the youth in gray dared not be disrespectful. He answered reverently, “Liang Yan, a menial disciple of the Formation Branch, here at the invitation of a senior.”

“Oh? Which senior invited you? I haven’t received any notice.” The right-hand maiden gave him a half-serious, half-smiling look. “Seeing how handsome you are, perhaps you’ve come to seek out one of our junior sisters?”

Liang Yan scratched his head, frowning. “I’m not sure…” Suddenly recalling something, he produced a jade pendant from his robe and held it out. “Would this serve as proof?”

The maiden glanced at the jade pendant and her expression changed instantly. The smile vanished, replaced by a solemn look. “Forgive me, junior brother. My earlier words were mere jest—please pay them no mind.”

Liang Yan was surprised by her sudden change in attitude, but kept his composure. “Not at all. The senior who summoned me gave no specific location. Might you two sisters guide me?”

“Of course,” the right-hand maiden replied. “I am Chunmei, and this is Dongmei. Since you possess the jade token, you must be the one invited. We will personally lead you.”

Chunmei turned and walked up the mountain, while Dongmei gestured politely for him to follow.

Liang Yan nodded, casually trailing behind, inwardly pondering the true purpose behind his invitation.

Soon, the three reached the peak, passing through clouds and mist. They found themselves before a lotus pond, its blossoms swaying on the water. Five winding corridors stretched across the surface, converging at a small pavilion in the center.

The pavilion was veiled in translucent curtains. Within sat a figure—unclear, but seemingly a woman.

Chunmei and Dongmei bowed respectfully to the figure inside, then took their leave, departing without further words.

Liang Yan watched them vanish into the mist, his curiosity deepening. He followed Chunmei’s example, bowing respectfully toward the pavilion. “I wonder what instructions the senior has for me.”

He kept his head lowered, hands clasped, but the figure within made no reply. He waited, about to speak again, when a melodious zither sounded from within.

The music was pure and clear, like spring water flowing over stone, soothing the soul. The melody was balanced and tranquil, yet lively and ethereal, as if the music of the celestial palace, sparking longing in the heart.

Liang Yan’s restless anxiety melted away in an instant.

If that were all, it would have been a delight—under other circumstances, Liang Yan might have rejoiced at such heavenly music. But now, he could not muster any joy; instead, beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

He had discovered, to his shock, that his spiritual energy had grown sluggish under the influence of the music, unable to flow at all. Stranger still, despite realizing the problem, his mind remained calm, utterly devoid of any desire to change his situation.

The experience was uncanny. It felt as though he had split into two selves: his consciousness was clear, desperately wanting to regain control, yet his body refused to obey, his will lazy, unable to resist, standing there as if awaiting execution.

A single note rang out, its timbre subtly changing—like a droplet falling into a mountain spring, sending ripples across the surface.

This change might seem trivial to others, but to Liang Yan’s spiritual awareness, it was like a death knell. He sensed something racing toward him beneath the tranquil notes.

In the face of danger, Liang Yan bit his tongue, pain clearing his mind for a moment. He swiftly employed the “Sitting Forgetfulness Technique” from the “Heart Without Fixed Intent Method.”

This technique could shut out the six senses and sever the five perceptions, a method of severing worldly attachments and desires, originally from the Confucian school. Here, it proved invaluable against the pervasive zither attack.

Regaining his freedom, Liang Yan leapt aside. A soft sound followed, and he glanced back to see a two-foot-long gash carved into the rock by something unseen.

He was startled—there was indeed deadly intent within the music!

But now, with his senses sealed, he was immune to its influence, though unable to detect the murderous notes.

“If I cannot evade, I might as well remain still!”

With this thought, Liang Yan formed a spell with one hand and slapped his storage pouch with the other. A jet-black light shot forth, forming a small shield before him, then enveloping him in a dark barrier.

Sharp sounds echoed from the shield’s surface, not loud, but like gentle spring rain, quietly wearing the black shield thin.

Liang Yan remained calm, changing hand seals rapidly, channeling pure, immense spiritual energy from the “Dual Fish Array” into the dark barrier.

The zither melody continued, countless invisible blades fell like rain, relentlessly striking the barrier. Yet the shield grew darker, like a stubborn stone in a river, unmoving.

After a while, the figure in the pavilion seemed to realize this approach was futile. The zither paused, then resumed with a new melody.

The music no longer serene, but alternately slow and urgent—evoking the passage of ages, the reflection of time, stirring sorrow for days gone by; or the chaotic struggles of the world, clouds shifting, turmoil and upheaval, causing confusion and anxiety.

Liang Yan stayed within the shield, the invisible blades ceased. He should have felt relief, but the reality proved otherwise.

Despite his senses being sealed, the music now sounded directly within his mind, as if bypassing his ears and imprinting itself on his soul.

His previously tranquil state was abruptly pulled, his heart now unsettled and anxious.

Alarmed, Liang Yan thought, “This is bad!”

Indeed, his internal energy began to surge, rushing about as if no longer his own, eager to escape his control.

The situation was strange beyond belief. Liang Yan had no time to ponder; he flipped open his storage pouch, producing an octagonal compass, and activated a spell. The needle spun wildly, finally settling to point at a spot behind an artificial rock.

“Southeast, the auspicious position!”

Without hesitation, Liang Yan raised two fingers, blue light flickering and crackling with electricity. He sliced three inches off the rock.

A black light streaked over, and Liang Yan, shield in tow, moved into the hollow he had just carved.

“Hmm?” From the pavilion came a faint sound of surprise. But the music continued, surging toward Liang Yan.

Pale-faced, he maintained his shield, eyes fixed on the compass, muttering calculations.

He darted about the pond, constantly changing position, as if struggling for survival in chaotic times, seeking a safe haven.

He persisted for a while, always on the brink of defeat, but never yielding. The figure in the pavilion grew impatient, abruptly halting the music.

Liang Yan sensed a change of tactics, heart pounding, holding his breath, ready for anything.

As expected, the zither resumed, this time sharp and intense, its rhythm fierce. Liang Yan heard a single note and felt his spirit quake, his mind swirling with demons. He spat blood.

His qi and blood surged, his soul nearly unstable, about to flee his body. At this critical moment, a nameless technique in his mind activated, golden light flashing within, forcefully stabilizing his soul.

With his spirit restored, Liang Yan collapsed, drenched in sweat and utterly exhausted.

“Foundation restoration? Boy, you’ve cultivated Buddhist techniques!”

The zither finally stopped, replaced by a woman’s voice.

Liang Yan managed a bitter smile, bowing toward the pavilion. “Thank you, senior, for sparing me.”

The woman snorted coldly. “Thank me? I was attacking you!”

“Senior’s cultivation is profound, but all three attacks used no power beyond the Qi Refining stage, relying only on the grand arts of zither. Had you used even a fraction more spiritual strength, I fear I would have died already.”

“Humph, you are perceptive! Do you know what piece you just heard?”

Liang Yan scratched his head, smiling wryly. “I confess, I know nothing of zither arts—might senior enlighten me?”

The figure in the pavilion was silent for a moment before speaking. “What you heard was the ‘Three Movements of Listening Plum,’ divided into three chapters: The Melody of Tranquility, The Tune of Chaos, and The Lament of Severed Soul. You are the only Qi Refining disciple in the past ten years to hear all three chapters.”